On The Outside
by innocent
Summary: *Short Story* Based on “Run Away, Little Boy”. Rory and Tristan say goodbye, as Dean looks on. How it should’ve gone. *COMPLETE*


Title: On the Outside

Author: *innocent*/Stacy (jacobs_angel69@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG

Pairing: R/T, D angst

Spoilers: "Run Away, Little Boy"

Summary: Based on "Run Away, Little Boy". Rory and Tristan say goodbye, as Dean looks on. How it _should've_ gone.

Disclaimer: In reality, the characters, concept and just about everything else belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB. In _my_ little world, it's a completely different story. See, in my world, Tristan never left, and when he was there, things were, shall we say… (more) interesting between him and Rory… And in my little world, CMM belongs to me, also… *sigh* reality sucks. Oh, right… the point of that whole babble was that nothing belongs to me, and therefore, you should not sue. Cos if you did you would find that I have very little of value… next to nothing, in fact.

A/N: This is my first GG fic, so please R&R! (Yes, that was my pathetic attempt to make you give me some feedback… did it work?)

"I'd kiss you goodbye, but your boyfriend's watching…" Tristan mumbled, casting a glance at Dean, who stood off to one side.

Dean caught the glance that Tristan shot at him, and wondered what it meant. The "accountant" seemed different tonight. He was less cocky, more vulnerable. But that new vulnerability didn't mean that Dean trusted him. In fact, it made him more suspicious of his motives.

Dean was well aware that he was the outsider here, he knew he didn't really belong in this world. Rory could make the transition from quirky, small-town Stars Hollow to upscale Hartford easily… she was special, though. 

She was part of this world, whether she wanted to be or not. Although she was spared the heartbreaking coldness of the rich, upper-class lifestyle her grandparents led, she still belonged, simply by being the granddaughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore. It didn't matter that her mother was the black sheep of the family, tradition and an age-old respect for "what people thought" would never allow Emily Gilmore to forsake her only grandchild.

And he – Tristan… he was part of this world too. And he was everything that Dean wasn't. He knew that it was stupid to worry about whether Rory was faithful or not, she had publicly declared that she loved him, and hated Tristan… but still. There was that annoying little voice at the back of his mind whispering that she really didn't seem to hate Tristan… and if she didn't really hate Tristan, then did she really love him?

Usually it was easy to push aside those annoying thoughts, because usually Rory's full attention was lavished on himself. But now, with her staring at Tristan like that, looking almost… sad… 

And then she did something that shocked all three teens in the room. She reached up and embraced Tristan, gently holding him as if she was trying to infuse him with some warmth, even the tiniest amount. It was as if she knew that when he left Hartford, there wouldn't even be the escape his playboy persona allowed. Instead, he would have nothing but the cold that haunted him in his own home, and nowhere to hide from it.

Tristan didn't know what to do, how to respond, _if_ to respond… Dean started towards them, ready to play the jealous boyfriend, _'And with good cause!'_ he thought angrily, but stopped suddenly. The expression on Tristan's face – it looked very familiar. Dean was sure he had seen it before, and then it hit him. He had seen it before… on himself.

Tristan had the same look that Dean did whenever he saw Rory. He could see just what the tall blonde wanted to do. Surprisingly it wasn't to throw her onto the nearest table and ravish her, nor was it to turn and flaunt his apparent victory in Dean's face. Instead he looked like all he wanted to do was wrap himself around Rory and lose himself in her.

After a moment that was entirely too long for Dean and nowhere near long enough for Tristan, Rory drew back.

"I'll… miss you…" she whispered, her hand resting on his sleeve.

Tristan could feel the heat of her palm through the thin material of his shirt, and he wondered if maybe she didn't want to let him go. But that was just wishful thinking… _'That's all it can be.' _he thought to himself, willing his iron wall of control back into place.

But then he looked into her eyes and saw the brightness of them. Not the usual Rory-Gilmore-rainbows-and-kittens brightness, but tears… for him. Tristan was taken aback. This emotion, this sorrow… it was too strange, too alien. No one had ever cared enough to cry for him.

He didn't know how to handle this new Rory. An angry Rory, he could handle, and banter was almost second nature – but tears? Those, he didn't know how to fix.

Somehow it didn't seem right to leave her crying… truth be told, leaving her at all seemed wrong, but as much as he wished he could, this was one thing the almighty Tristan Dugrey could not charm his way out of.

Instead, he tried to protect her, "Don't worry, I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

__

'Oh Tristan…' Rory thought. Somehow, this clumsy attempt to reassure her only made it hurt more. _'We could have been friends… I could have loved-'_ Abruptly, Rory stopped her train of thought. It wouldn't be fair to think like that. Not to her, not to Tristan, and especially not to Dean.

Tristan watched her, watched the emotions play over her face. There were too many to really tell them apart, but an air of sadness touched them all.

Tristan's mind was full of if only's…

If only he had thought before breaking into that damn safe…

If only he hadn't left rehearsal that night…

If only he hadn't gotten caught up with those so-called 'rebels'…

If only he hadn't heard her admit to hating him…

If only he hadn't ruined their friendship…

If only he hadn't noticed her…

If only he hadn't fallen for her…

__

'Unrequited love is such_ a bitch'_ Tristan thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry." Rory whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for. Not entirely sure she even wanted to know.

He opened his mouth to reassure her, to at least try to heal the hurt he had caused… but his father broke the spell.

"Tristan." 

One word and it was gone, like a shadow melting into the black night, never to return. 

She bit her lip and he had to stop himself from reaching down and pressing her ruby red lips to his own, one final moment he could treasure. Instead, he opted to let Playboy Tristan come out. It was better to be numb than to feel the depth of the pain leaving her caused. 

"Take care of yourself… Mary," he smirked, turning quickly. 

Maybe he thought that if he told himself she wouldn't notice his dull blue eyes, or maybe she wouldn't understand, or, hell maybe she just wouldn't care… And maybe he didn't care what she thought. Maybe he thought that being numb would stop it from mattering. Maybe he thought that lying to himself enough would make it all true.

She choked out a small laugh, obviously forced, and once again his heart betrayed him and had hope. But once again his fragile heart endured another spidery crack on its already delicate surface, because she merely smiled wistfully, and whispered a wistful goodbye.

She waited until he had turned the corner, following his father with his head held high, his broad shoulders held proudly, before she let the tears come, flowing down her cheeks like torrential rains.

Dean watched her cry over… him, and he wanted to feel anger, no rage. Rage at her, at Tristan, even at himself. But he found he could not feel anything.

And so he stood, once again, on the outside.


End file.
